Are You My Brother?
by lucacat4
Summary: Except for the last seven months, his life is a blank. As far as he's concerned, he woke up in a grave in a field with several hundred dollars in his pocket, a leather jacket on his shoulders, and no memories. When two men find him, claiming to be his brother Sam and an angel named Castiel, John is not sure what to think. He better decide fast, cause it's going to be a bumpy ride!


He manages to eek a little bit more soap out of the dispenser, and washes his hands well before snapping a new pair of gloves onto his hands. He waits a minute, just leaning up against the orange-and-white tiled wall, allowing Mindy to take the next customer while he gathers his strength. And his patience. If he has another stupid customer trying to be funny and driving in backwards so that an empty back seat greets him, or another teenager wearing a mask, he's positive he's going to burst a blood vessel. When he signed up for this job, he knew it wouldn't be all gold and jewels, but he didn't expect it to be quite as exasperating as it turned out to be. Unfortunately, beggars can't be choosers, as he's learned quite well over the last seven months.

Ok. He pulls himself together, drawing a deep breath and then exhaling in a _woosh_. Just...an hour and a half more, then he's going straight back to the motel.

He dons his headset, straightens the neon baseball cap on his head, and plasters a fake smile across his face as the next car pulls up. He can't help noticing with surprise that it's pretty old-he's no expert, probably not even old enough to remember it, but it's definitely not one you see very often these days. It's in good shape, though, the black paintwork clean and unscratched, the chrome flashing in the sun. The two men in the car aren't the centenarians he was expecting, actually-both the driver and the man in the passenger seat seem pretty young, although the driver is clearly younger. Brothers? Maybe, although they don't look like siblings. They both have brown hair, but the driver's hair is long and floppy, and while he is sporting jeans and a big flannel shirt, his companion is wearing an interesting combination of tan trenchcoat, dress shirt, and tie. Huh.

Alright. 3...2...1...action.

"Hello, welcome to Taco Bell. The special today is the chili cheese burger, 10% off if you also purchase a large drink and any side. What can I get you for you?"

Twin blank stares.

"Would you like me to point out the choices for today?"

Two pale faces, a muscle jumping in one cheek, two pairs of eyes wide in shock.

"Umm...do you need a little bit more time? There's no one behind you, so you're welcome to consider your order for a moment if you're not ready."

The passenger moves first, placing a hand on his friend's arm as if in restraint. "Sam…" His voice is gravelly and low, a warning.

"Christo."

"Umm, sorry, no. I'm John." He points to the laminated nametag on his polo shirt, hoping that this is just a weird prank. Whatever it is, it's creepy and he's about had enough.

"Dean?" If this guy wasn't so broad-shouldered and muscled, he'd call that more of a squeak than a question.

"Sam, we need to talk. Let's go inside." Trench Coat nudges Sam's arm. "We cannot yet assess the situation properly and in full detail. Let us not jump to conclusions just yet, we must discuss this and question...him."

Sam's face is pale and hard, cheeks chiseled and jaw jutting as though he's angry, but his eyes are large and seem very sad, somehow. And surprised, and confused, and hurt. Too many emotions.

He turns to his friend. "Cas...do you…"

"I do not know, Sam. Come." He turns his face towards Dean. "May we have a word with you, when your duties are completed? There is nothing to fear, I promise. You...bear a striking resemblance to a...a friend of ours."

John blinks. "Uh, sure, I guess. Yeah, I'll be finished in about an hour, we can sit inside, if you want?"

"We are entirely compatible. Thank you."

Sam doesn't say anything, just gives John one more piercing glance and then revves the engine, pulling the car around to the parking lot.

spnspnspnspnspn

They're all perched painfully on the tall stools of the most isolated table they could find, Sam and Cas facing John on the other side as if in an interrogation. He's definitely a little uncomfortable, but these people don't seem to be dangerous or mean him any harm, so he figures that if anything goes wrong he can always just walk away. Or call the police, of course-lots of witnesses in here.

"So." John drums his fingers awkwardly on the tabletop, reaching to crack his knuckles before he remembers that that's an impolite thing to do in front of customers. He folds his hands in his lap instead, sitting up a little straighter. Sam is freaking him out a little-he can't seem to take his eyes off of John, staring at him unblinkingly as though he thinks John's going to disappear if he turns the other way. Cas is grave and quiet, but his presence seems to ease Sam a little bit.

Sam laughs, but there's no humor to it. More like distress. "Ok, you say your name is John?"

John nods, slowly. "Yeah, that's right."

"Look, man, I'm not sure how to say this, but-I'm guessing you haven't been working here too long, right?"

"Couple of months."

"Yeah, that's about what I figured. And, I'm also pretty sure that you don't remember anything about your life before...before _this_."

John grips the table top until his knuckles turn white, narrowly resisting the urge to scoot back and away from these two creeps.

"Someone told you that, I don't know who, but it was none of their business."

The restaurant is closing up, now, the customers slowly dissipating and the workers packing up their things. The janitors will be in in another half hour, but right now they're alone.

Sam leans in conspiratorily, a strange look of pity on his face.

"I already knew."

"What?"

"Dude, there's no easy way to tell you, but...I _knew_ the moment I saw you, because...because you're my brother, ok?" The last bit comes out in a rush, and for a moment John isn't sure he heard correctly.

"Ummm...sorry?" is the only thing he can come up with, mouth gaping stupidly.

Sam curses under his breath, turning to Cas as if about to say something, then deciding against it. "Look, I know it's kind of a shock for you-believe me, I think you scared about ten years off my life when I saw you in the drive thru there-but I can prove it to you. First of all, your name isn't John, it's Dean. John...John was our dad, that's probably why you picked that name in the first place, some kind of subconscious remembrance. Your name is Dean Winchester, I'm Sam Winchester, that's your car outside, you love pie and Metallica and AC-DC and teasing me, but you're always there for me too. You're my big brother, you know? You-you've been gone a long time now." Sam's eyes are misty, now, and he rummages for his wallet. "You'd probably tease me for showing you this, but I always carry it around with me, just...just in case. Here." He shoves a picture across the table, marked by folds and worn ragged around the edges, but still clear. It's a picture of what must be a younger Sam and a younger Dean-_me_, he reminds himself-Sam looks like he's probably in his late teens, tall and gangly, leaning up against the same car that pulled in earlier. John recognizes his own face in the young man standing to the side, smiling a half-smile and raising a bottle of beer in a kind of salute.

It's too much, toomuchtoomuchtoomuch to take in at once, and John-Dean-John-Dean backs away, hands up protectively. "No, no, no I don't understand, I don't know who the hell you are, I don't know who _I am_, what's going on? I don't get it, what happened to me-"

Cas slides off the chair as Sam jumps to his feet, lifting his hands up in sight and approaching softly, as if Dean is a wild animal.

"It's alright, Dean." Cas walks toward him slowly, slowly, extending a hand and touching two fingers to Dean's temple, as if in some sort of a blessing.

The ground rushes up to meet him, his eyes dim, and everything goes black.


End file.
